by Lexi Blake
“Can we not talk about your needs?” Roni practically begged.
Sandra ignored her daughter. It was obvious she was going to try to make the new guy as uncomfortable as possible. “So, what’s up with all the crazy stuff out in the garden part of the building? Those benches are weird. And why are they hidden?”
“Because they’re spanking benches and they’re hidden because they make scene spaces.” Luckily, he wasn’t easily made uncomfortable.
The room seemed to go still, both women staring at him like he’d grown horns.
Finally, he had the upper hand. He knew he should step back, but it was good to take the lead on something. It almost never happened. “Yeah, The Garden’s a sex club every weekend. And sometimes on Thursdays. Don’t worry. There’s a nursery and the subs all take turns with the kiddos.”
He picked up his slice and took a bite. His appetite was totally back.
* * * *
Two hours later Roni stared out over the lush greenery below and tried not to think about whether or not Tucker spent time down there. It was quiet at this time of night, though it wasn’t even eleven. Apparently, this group kept their kinky stuff to the weekends. And some Thursdays.
Of course he spent time down there. Why wouldn’t he? He lived here. He was a gorgeous man who likely had a sex drive, and there was a sex club. Where people had sex. Where he’d probably had sex.
It had been a long time since she’d had sex.
“Hey, are you all right?”
She winced and turned to see the man she’d been thinking about as though she’d managed to conjure him. He’d stayed for dinner, explaining the BDSM lifestyle to her mother. Yeah, that had been uncomfortable for her. Mom and Tucker seemed to have a great time. He was still in the jeans and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier, but he carried a beer in his hand.
“I needed some air,” she replied and held out her hand. “And I’m going to need that.”
He’d said he would give her everything.
He passed her the cold beer without a single complaint. “Sure. I went down to Rob’s for a couple of minutes. Okay, I went to Rob’s because I knew he had beer and your mom is a lot. I think she’s planning to do something terrible to me, and it might involve not-fun torture.”
Because he was interested in the fun kind of torture.
She took a long drink and then realized that her lips were touching where his lips had touched, and that did something for her.
She turned away and went back to staring at the lush green below. It was beautiful, like the man who moved in beside her, and like that man, she didn’t understand it.
“Did I freak you out with the BDSM stuff?”
“Yes.” She’d promised honesty.
He took a deep breath. “When I came out of captivity, I was out of control. I might not have looked that way on the outside, but I was angry and confused and violent in my head. I know BDSM sounds like it’s all about sex, but it’s not. It’s about control and trust and communication, which I wasn’t great about when I got out.”
Of prison. He’d been in prison and punished in ways she was only beginning to comprehend. Why would he turn back to violence in a place that should be loving? “I would think having been tortured that you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“Torture is a funny word. I guess it’s like any word. It is what you make it.” He pushed off the wall. “I’ll make sure you know when play nights are and you can stay in or I can have you moved to one of the apartments at the bottom of the building. You can’t see anything from there.”
She also wouldn’t be able to see the beauty below her. She wouldn’t be able to see him as often if they weren’t living on the same floor. “All right. Then what does the word mean to you?”
He stopped and she was worried he wouldn’t answer her. Finally, he leaned back over, looking down, his hip brushing against hers. “Oh, torture can be hideous. Trust me. I’ve been worked over by some of the finest pain givers in the world, and I was on time dilation drugs so it lasted for what felt like years. But there are forms of torture that can be sweet, and we use the word the same way we use the word play or submissive. The women and men who submit here typically aren’t submissive in their vanilla lives. They use it as a form of relaxation, a way to let that piece of themselves be expressed. Some use submission as permission to enjoy themselves. The torture in that case isn’t torture at all since it’s something they choose, something they enjoy.”
She hadn’t considered what role he would want to play. He’d been so in control when she knew him, but it was apparent he’d changed a lot. “Are you the submissive?”
He grinned her way. “No. I prefer the dominant side. I know. I’m so sweet you wouldn’t expect it, but there it is. You are not the first person to ask me that question.” The grin faded as he sobered. “I need the control during sex. I need it to feel safe and I need my partner to trust me so I feel…human, I guess. Worthy.”
“Worthy?” She wasn’t sure how spanking someone could make him feel worthy.
“Having someone trust me makes me feel good. I was out of control in the beginning. BDSM gave me some of it back. It let me bring out a part of my personality in a controlled, negotiated way where I know the boundaries and the rules. In the beginning I had a mentor who wouldn’t allow me to hurt anyone. Now I would never do it because I’m in control. I wouldn’t ever want to lose the trust of the people around me.”
She shook her head. “I guess I don’t understand it because I don’t have those tendencies.”
“Really?” He made a sound, the one that let her know he didn’t buy what she was selling.
“What?” She turned to look at him.
He shrugged slightly. “I’m just saying most women have tendencies when they let themselves.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She hadn’t even wanted sex for years. Not since him. First she’d been far too angry with him to want any man. Then she’d lost her sister and she’d been pregnant and scared. The only reason she was thinking about sex again was that she was somewhat safe. It didn’t have anything to do with him.
“What do you want from sex?” he asked.
She took another drink. She knew she should walk straight back into her apartment and avoid this incredibly inappropriate line of discussion. It had been one thing when he was explaining St. Andrew’s Crosses to her overly curious mother. There had been humor in that.
This was different. There was clear sensuality to his words, and his eyes were warm on her. Though they were standing in the hall, they were alone, and the garden below made the whole setting somewhat romantic. Very romantic. She shouldn’t talk about sex with him.
“Pleasure, of course.” She hadn’t had physical pleasure in a long time. She hadn’t even touched herself. She’d gotten so caught up in being a mom that she forgot she was a woman.
He straightened up. “Of course. And what else?”
“Why does there have to be something else? It’s a biological imperative.”
“I’ll tell you what I want. Everyone wants an orgasm. It’s easy. I can use my hand for that. What I want, what I’ve been chasing for the whole time I can remember, which isn’t long, is connection. I want to feel close to someone. I want to give pleasure as much as I want to receive it. Sometimes more. That’s where the worthy part comes in.”
Oh, how she longed for the secretive Steven. He’d been mysterious and closed off and he had nothing on the man in front of her. This man could rip her apart if she let him, and she couldn’t bring herself to not respond. “All right. I want connection, too, but it has to be the right person. I think I find that connection more in the kissing and the holding than in the actual sex.”
He frowned suddenly. “Did I…I didn’t give you an orgasm, did I?”
He went from intense and sexy to goofy and somehow still sexy in a heartbeat. It was fascinating to her. It made her smile. “I had an orgasm. Several, actually. You were goo
d in bed, but there wasn’t anything weird about it. It was straight-up sex.”
He was right back to serious and sexy. “Then I wasn’t on my game.”
“I said it was good.”
“And I’m saying it can be better,” he insisted. “So you say you don’t have any of these tendencies, but let me run you through a scenario. What if you had a partner who you trusted fully. You know this man won’t hurt you so for an evening you offer to do anything he asks of you sexually.”
Now she saw his game. “That sounds pretty good for him.”
“Only because you don’t understand what it means to be a Dom. At least not the way I prefer to play. This dominant partner would think about the way he’s going to play with you for a long time before your date. He would plan how the evening would go. He would watch you for long periods of time, observing what pleases you and what doesn’t, what turns you on and what you can live without. He would try to make sure everything was set up properly so all you have to do when you join him is obey.”
“I don’t like that word.” Sometimes she felt like she’d been far too obedient in life. But then again, her sister had defied the world and she wasn’t here anymore.
He shook his head. “Again, you’re hung up on words. Obey is tricky here because the obedience must be given. It has to be consensual or it means nothing. No one can force you to obey. In fact, in our world if you withdraw consent, it’s my duty to stop and ensure your comfort and safety.”
“Even if that means walking away?”
“Especially in that case. So this man you trust will have likely spent days thinking about you. That would be part of the thrill for him. He would enjoy thinking about how he could bring you pleasure. He would know that sometimes a woman needs permission to be sexual. He would create a space where there’s no shame, where she can explore the limits of her sexuality because he knows that shame is the enemy of pleasure.”
“I’ve explored. I’m not a virgin.” She’d had some crazy college nights.
“You’ve explored your fantasies?” His voice had gone low. “Or have you even allowed yourself to fantasize at all? What did you like about me in bed?”
She was oddly comfortable talking to him and that made her anxious. “This is weird.”
“Not in my world,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You want to know what happens in the garden below? A whole lot of it is talking. How can you know what you want if you never ask, if you never let yourself acknowledge that it’s okay to talk about this?”
She didn’t like the fact that he was making sense, but then she was mostly flustered at how nice it was to be with him. And what did it really hurt? They were only talking. “Fine. I’m not some kind of prude. I liked the way you kissed me.”
“How did I kiss you?” The question came out with an aching curiosity that hit her right in the heart.
He couldn’t remember something that had been important to her, a moment that had changed her life.
“I don’t know. I guess I liked the way I didn’t have to think when you kissed me. It wasn’t awkward. You would put your hand on the nape of my neck and I would feel petite. I liked that. I liked how big your hand was and how I could follow your lead.”
“Like this?”
His hand slid over her neck and her whole body lit up. It was right there—the impulse to let herself relax and follow his lead. “Yeah, a lot like that.”
He stared at her for a moment, the heat palpable between them. And then he withdrew his hand and she could breathe again. “If I were your Dom, I would set up a scene where you were completely helpless. I would tie you down and you would be forced to accept whatever I gave you. I would touch you everywhere, letting you know that at least while we’re playing, your body belongs to me. I would run my hands everywhere and when you least expected it, I would give your nipples a nasty twist. The pain would flare, but it wouldn’t last. It would only serve to make your nipples exquisitely sensitive when I decide to lick and suck them. You wouldn’t be able to fight me in the beginning and in the end, you wouldn’t even think about fighting me. You would be my plaything, and that’s all you would need to be.”
She was back to not being able to breathe. This intensity had been a large part of Steven’s appeal. He could be so ruthless about his work and he would often turn that singlemindedness on her, and that was when she felt like she was the only woman in the world. No man had ever looked at her like he had, like Tucker was now.
“The first time you kissed me we were at the lab. It was after hours and I’d stayed behind because I was finishing up some reports for Dr. Walsh. There were a couple of doctors there who thought they could mess around with me. One in particular made a nuisance of himself. He was married but he thought the younger women were all fair game. That night he’d stayed behind, too, and he was coming on to me. Hard. You walked in and he pretty much peed himself after you were done with him.”
“Did I hurt him?”
His question came out measured so she couldn’t tell if he wanted the answer to be yes or no.
“Not physically, but he didn’t touch me again. Anyway, afterward you stayed while I finished up. You said you wanted to walk me out to my car. I thanked you and we ended up talking.” She could remember how grateful she’d been to not be left alone. “It was the first time I saw you as something other than the ambitious doctor who handled things for McDonald. You stayed way longer than you had planned, and I felt bad for keeping you. You told me it was okay because it might be the only good thing you’d done for anyone in months. I don’t know what made me do it, but I went up on my tiptoes and kissed you. It wasn’t much. It was barely two seconds. When I moved back, you told me that wasn’t a kiss. You asked me if you could show me what a kiss was. And you did.”
He’d been careful with her, making sure she was all right.
Rather like he’d explained he would be now. He’d been careful right up until he’d been sure she was with him and then he’d taken over. Then he’d taken her someplace she’d never been before.
“Show me.”
She came out of the memory at the sound of his command. Show me. That was what he’d said to her that night.
She could come out of the memory because it was hers. That moment was there in her brain and she could call on it for the rest of her life. It was something so personal. Her memories were the sum of her soul. It struck her forcibly what he’d lost. What she’d lost. That memory had truly been theirs, a shared history that should have connected them for the rest of their lives.
Now she was the only one who knew what it had felt like that night. He was right there. He was standing in front of her asking for that connection again.
She went up on her toes. “Thank you. I didn’t want him near me, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” She let her lips brush his, the bare meeting of flesh that came from a woman who wasn’t sure of what she’d wanted then. Of what she wanted now. “And then you shook your head.”
Tucker shook his head and took the beer from her hand. He set it on the ledge and turned back to her. “Oh, that wasn’t a kiss. Let me show you how I kiss. Will you let me kiss you, Roni? I think about kissing you all the time.”
So close to what he’d actually said. She would take it. “Yes. Please kiss me.”
The air seemed to go out of the room and her vision focused in on him. It was like the rest of the world fell away. It was exactly as it had been that first night with him. Something had fallen into place when he’d looked at her and she’d known nothing would be the same.
If he kissed her again, they would have that connection they’d lost.
His hand went around the nape of her neck, sending a delicious warmth down her spine. He pulled her slightly, drawing her close in an easy show of strength. He brought their bodies together and her breasts brushed against his chest. His free hand wrapped around her waist and she took a moment to look into his eyes.
They were the clearest blue. Something about
his eyes had always dragged her in. Even when they were cold, even when no one else had been able to see the emotion behind them, she hadn’t been fooled.
“I want to believe. But I don’t want to want to believe,” she said quietly.
“Because it would be easier if I was the bastard you’ve spent years believing I was. I know. Roni, I can’t imagine I was easy to care for then. I’m not easy now. But for however long we get together I want to try to be with you. We can take it slow and find a way to be friends again.”
She sighed at the thought because he was going to pull away and that was the last thing she wanted. Now that she was here and alone with him, she knew she couldn’t lose the chance to explore this side of the man. “We were never friends.”
She moved in and kissed him. It wasn’t what had happened that night, but that was all right. They were making a new memory, one no one could take away from them. It might all go to hell tomorrow, but she would kiss the father of her child again. She would have this new memory of him.
Tucker groaned as her lips met his and his hands tightened. He took over the kiss and she followed his lead, wrapping her arms around him and letting every reason to not do this fall away.
His mouth took hers, devouring her in the best of all possible ways. Comfort. She’d found comfort and safety in his arms. It was precisely why his leaving had been so hard a betrayal. No one had ever made her feel like Steven had.
And she wanted that again. In that moment, she couldn’t even lie to herself.
His fingers wound in her hair, tugging lightly to guide her. His tongue slipped in, dominating hers, and she realized he’d been right. They’d been in dominant and submissive positions even then. She simply hadn’t known what to call them.
Would he have taken her further if they’d had longer together? Would he have eased her into a sexual relationship where he took control and she was able to find a place where she was comfortable with herself? Where she didn’t question if she was doing something right because he would tell her and they would find a way?
